Independent Urges
by Twisted-Web-Tales
Summary: 'I took his innocence like Arthur took mine.' America is forced to reflect on his past sexual relationship with Australia when the younger, now fully grown country begins to attent the world meeting. Had he always been so handsome? 'I was not his first, and there were many others after me.'
1. Child

Alfred F Jones did not at all consider himself a melancholy nor resentful kind of person.

No, in fact the Untied Sates of America much prefers to consider himself to be a kind hearted and energetic country; a righteous hero of justice who was always ready for whatever the day could throw at him.

Yes, kind, friendly, energetic and loud- that was him, that was America. Always.

At least, this was how he felt when he had met the young British Colony for the first time.

Australia had been just a small lad living under England's arguably strict and stuffy roof when their very different worlds finally collided. He had stomped himself down the stairs and halfway through the foyer towards the front door in a heavy footed protest on his way to exit this awful house when it happened. His hand on the ornate knob ready to leave violently when he had spotted the green eyed child cowering on the old couch in the nearby parlour; no doubt frightened by the yelling match that had transpired between the Yankee and Brit upstairs only moments before. Their eyes met briefly, causing his actions to falter in surprise. Who was this new face?

His hand fell and he found himself approaching the atrociously decorated room slowly, causing the boy to slink deeper into the couch cushions in a pathetic attempt to become invisible.

"Hello" he greeted slowly, his voice oddly soft even to his own ears as he shuffled into the parlour and knelt down to one knee in front of the child. "Who are you?" He inquired with a lopsided grin.

Their were a few small beats of awkward silence between them as both took in each other's unfamiliar presence. America's grin was warm and welcoming.

Deciding this blond, funny sounding stranger to be nice enough, the brunette smiled back wildly.

"I'm Australia! I came from super far away!" He shuffled forward on the cushions with newfound enthusiasm that only a child could demonstrate. "Who are you anyway, why were you yelling at Dad?"

Dad? So old eyebrows was fathering Colonies now?

Apparently still controlling Canada wasn't enough for the uptight nation.

"I'm America, England's younger, more heroic brother..." He replied, his grin growing as wide as the child in front of him. "It's nice to meet you little dude."

"Why were you fighting if you're brothers?" Australia questioned again as he shook America's hand civilly: the way England had taught him- dad had refrained him from saying the typical greeting of 'Good day' until he managed to pronounce all syllables clearly and correctly.

'G'day is NOT an acceptable greeting, nor will it be tolerated under my rule.'

"Well..." Alfred thought about how best to explain his situation to his new friend. "You know how England likes to teach and groom you to be all proper and stuff?" He questioned and the young colony nodded in understanding.

"Like how I've gotta read ALL the time now and I'm not allowed to climb trees or dig holes in the garden?" He groaned back, childishly annoyed.

"Yeah...well I couldn't take it anymore, so I decided to do things without him. I left to be by myself." He replied, standing up from the ground and straightening his uniform. "I told my big brother that I was independent now, we had a big fight and things are a bit tense between us still." America's sentence trailed off as he looked up at the ceiling as if he could see Arthur fuming in his study upstairs. Tense was an understatement, in fact, he would be suprised if the pommy bastard would ever really let it go. Alfred'sblue eyes turned back to Australia who was now staring up at him with shock and confusion.

"What's up little dude?"

The brunette lowered his voice to a frightened whisper, he looked around terrified. "Y-you can't say no to Mr England, you gotta do what he says...or you get in big trouble!" He looked so scared that England might overhear him and decide to spank them both! Alfred's face broke out into a grin once again and he found himself ruffling the young lads hair affectionately, a fearless, heroic chuckle bubbling from his throat.

"Don't worry little dude, I can say or do whatever I like now. I can dig all the holes and climb all the trees I like." He assured with confidence. "I'm free!"

"R-really...?" The whole idea was confusing to him to say the least; yes dad was kinda strict, but why would you choose to be by yourself? You would be alone in the great big world, and Australia couldn't think of anything worse then being alone.

He had been alone for far too long, cut off from the rest of the world and he told himself every day he would never go back to that kind of suffocating loneliness (no matter how horrible life got under this roof). 'England was his world now', that's what Dad had said, and he believes him with all his tiny heart.

I mean, who else would care about him?!

America's falling grin snapped the young Colony back to his small, twisted reality.

"Yeah! Anyways, I've got to go, see you around dude." He patted Australia on the shoulder fondly (the kind of pat that silently encouraged him to stay strong) and started for the front door once again. Australia jumped off the couch and walked him to the front door politely, just like he had been instructed to do with all visiting guests.

America opened the large front door and cast a final, warm smile to the young Colony.

"Why are you still here!?" Came the roaring accusation from atop the staircase, making both males jump and look up. England had emerged from his study, his mood obviously still foul from their earlier fight. The Brit had a whiskey in his hand and a sway to his movements. Australia shrunk back in fright of the great enraged empire, his bright eyes becoming dull and downcast to look at the old wooden floor.

"I was just leaving!" America spat back, squaring his shoulders and looking annoyed and angry. "Fucking get off my back you bastard drunk!"

And with that he stormed out, slamming the wooden door shut behind him forcefully with not so much of a word goodbye, the sound of gravel being stomped across loudly indicating his quick retreat from the house, from Arthur.

England began storming down the staircase, downing his glass of whiskey before he even reached the bottom landing.

"Ungrateful bastard, good riddance!" He spat, venom lacing each word as he glared glassy eyed out the window at the retreating carriage, his face twisted in rage. Australia made a move to retreat out of sight, he did not like dad when he drank in a bad mood, he became brash and physical, almost cruel. A large hand grabbed his small shoulder and stopped him mid great escape, the grip was heavy and rough, sending pain shooting down his small arm. He dared not make a sound but instead held his breath as England yanked him violently, forcefully spinning him around to glare down at him with accusing, almost resentful eyes. Australia's own eyes looked away and down, unable to look at him as his terrified face scrunched up with guilt.

Why did he feel guilty? Should he feel guilty?

This displeased England greatly it would seem and with a drunken sneer he shook the young boy roughly before leaning his face down and close, the sharp smell of strong, familiar alcohol cutting through the air between them like a sharp knife. "You do NOT talk to him, do you understand!?" He growled and Australia found himself nodding weakly(his arm now unbearably painful from the vice grip), wide eyed and still unable to make a noise.

England let go with a violent shove that almost had the lad toppling over before he stood straight once more, staring down at his young, untamed colony accusingly. "You are part of MY EMPIRE! You understand, boy!? Don't even think about getting any traitorous ideas of 'freedom' from him because I can assure you that no body else will care enough about you!" Arthur inspected his empty glass with hatred before his gaze once again shifted to the small, terrified boy. Still such a bloody, ungrateful savage, he has much to learn!

He refused to let this one disrespect him and leave like that idiot younger brother of his. No, this one will learn respect, even if he had to teach it in the most disrespectful way possible.

"The world is a big, scary place and you are less then nothing in its eyes, you hear me boy!? NOTHING!" His voice raised dramatically, his hand tightening dangerously around his glass that at any moment it might break. Australia couldn't handle it, his already wide eyes grew unbelievably wider and he found himself desperately scurrying around England's legs in a bid to escape his drunken rage. He dodged England's violent grabbing hands as the older man gave a outraged cry at the disobedience. "You bloody little savage!" He yelled angrily as Australia ran around the corner, the horrid sound of breaking glass behind him only spurring him to run faster as the whiskey glass shattered against the wall loudly, showering the air in sharp, whiskeyless debris.

"SAVAGE! YOU ARE NOTHING! NOTHING!" England roared once more, drunk and red faced as Australia burst out the kitchen door and wasted no time climbing a nearby tree up and out of harms way, his natural 'savage' instincts purring him to go as high as possible. He was breathing heavily and shaking, terrified but not ready to shed a tear.

Climbing trees were against the rules he knew, but as he picked the small shards of broken glass from his rapidly bleeding shoulder, he decided that rules were stupid.

England was stupid.

Whiskey was stupid.

America was stupid.

And he was nothing...

...

Short chapter! Sorry!

I just though I'd set the tone of England and America and Australia's past relationships.

So, I set this chapter after the American Revolutionary War, so America and England are a bit angry still! England is bitter towards his new colonies!

The next chapter should be longer hopefully, and it will be set before WW1, so time skip :)

Reviews would be awesome too!

What do you think!?


	2. The Urge

Alfred F Jones was a hero. A wall of justice against terror and evil...

Right?

Heroes don't get jealous, don't get scared or nervous. Heroes fight the world's wrongs and win!

He was a hero.

The hero.

So why did he feel all the things heroes aren't meant to feel?

Why was he feeling this way at the sight of the newly independent Commonwealth Of Australia taking his seat at the conference table!?

Why were his palms suddenly sweaty, his mouth dry and his head desperately dizzy when those green eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled happily?

No.

A hero shouldn't dwell on the past...but fight for the future.

So...why won't the past leave him alone!?

...

It's funny how quickly emotions change...

Funny and cruel.

Emotions were stupid.

"I want to introduce you all to my newest Colonies, my...'sons'." England spoke the word uncomfortably, like it was an awfully awkward and privet statement not spoken in polite conversation. It wasn't, but the whole introducing his family situation in front of other powerful nations was...unsettling. France leaned back with a scoff.

"Ah, Le children you have hidden away from us for so long! Excellent!" He sung with approval and a clap of his hands.

America agreed, it had been a long time since he had met one of England's Colonies- Australia, a wide eyed young lad whom he connected with only briefly. He had not seen hide nor hair of him since...almost 130 years...wow.

Wait, did he say 'sons'?

As in...two?

The Brit stood up the front of the conference table, straight and formal in his uniform as the rest of Allies listened causally. They had all gathered in the wake of the oncoming World War, and were intent on sharing knowledge and assets with one another in order to prove their strengths and power.

A glorified pissing contest really, but still, a pissing contest England felt had to take part in non the less. The great heavy doors to the conference room opened slightly with a light squeak of the hinges and a young pale man shuffled in, his green eyes downcast politely and hands tucked in his red uniform pockets as he strode over to stand straight next to the British empire.

"This is New Zealand." He announced as all eyes fell on the small boy, he looked to be about 15 of age and very small and thin; he had unruly light brown hair that curled in an unusual way that oddly reminded America of a fluffy sheep...weird. He smiled at the other countries cheerfully but dared not speak out of place before England continued with a crisp clear of his throat.

"And, while slightly overdue, I'd like to finally and formally introduce-

The Brit was cut off as the wooden conference doors flew open with a bang. Everyone jumped in surprise, China and France jumping up at the ready- intent on fighting whatever threat dared to attack them at their own meeting. It wasn't their enemy that marched in guns blazing as everyone had expected however, but instead a young athletic looking young man of about 17, tall with lightly muscled arms. He had a wicked grin on his sun tanned face, his bright green eyes twinkling with mirth and mischief.

"Australia!" England hissed, face flushed slightly Crimson with anger and embarrassment at the rash and unrefined behaviour of his own 'son'. Honestly, he had been such a well behaved, well disciplined child of Britain in his youth, but as he grew and England's attention was divided between the arrival of New Zealand and the outbreak of many different wars and crises everything began to change.

His once tamed wild side began to reemerge. It started with more and more loud, informal outbursts of unwanted option; which then soon quickly lead to the use of small slag and the butchering of the great English language. Then to the playing of odd musical instruments and that godforsaken love for dangerous animals. He had tried so hard to reeducate him, he still does- but what was worse was this ungentlemanly behaviour was beginning to have its effects on his youngest Colony, and he refused to have New Zealand dragged down by unruly behaviour. It was unacceptable, misbehaviour!

And Australia would stay _well_ behaved if he knew what was good for him, because for now he was still a British Colony; no matter how close he was to full maturation or independence.

And he _was_ so close.

Too close in fact, England could tell by his brash change in actions and personality, in fact he almost reminded him of America when he had finally matured. That sudden longing for attention or touch, the sudden disobedience (though Australia was disobedient at the best of times), the masturbation...dear sweet lord above, the _masturbation_! Never had England washed bed sheets so often in his long, long life. Not even when the boys' went through puberty!

It was all pointed to one thing, so he knew what was coming next.

And because he loved his 'son', a distant if not cold type of love- but love all the same, England was preparing to take the necessary next steps in his development.

Just like he did for Alfred.

Better him then some other unloving, unrefined country...

Australia sauntered in and took his place standing next to his younger brother, who gave him a pointed stare that threatened a punch in the arm if he did not listen and behave. So he did (New Zealand could punch hard when he wanted to), he shoved his hands into the shallow pockets of his crinkled brown uniform and nodded his greeting to all the staring countries. His face broke out into a grin when he spotted a familiar face, their was no doubt about it! He may be dressed differently and have glasses now, but that was defiantly the face of America! Dads younger, more 'heroic' brother if he remembered correctly.

He remembered, they had met only briefly, but it was a day he would never forget for as long as he lived.

It was the day he had met someone who was free of England's rule. Free.

America smiled back as England continued to address the other countries to his current plans and strategies for the upcoming War.

Honestly, Australia wasn't listening, his bright green eyes were too busy watching America's listening face with odd fascination. He didn't remember him being so handsome all those years ago...he was so...so...tall and muscular...really handsome in fact. Australia looked at all the other Nations who all sat in their respected places, listening carefully, their eyes all trained on the Brit. He knew them all only by Country name and late night history lessons. But they were ALL kinda handsome...in their own way. How weird for him to notice.

Russia was tall and larger set, his skin a beautifully white as snow. China was slender and tall, his eyes a sea of deep rich chocolate. France was breathtaking to him, to say the least; his blond wavy hair so silky and his eyes memorising. Heck, as of late, he had been catching himself staring at even England for long ass periods of time during study sessions. He had never noticed until Zea had pointed it out one day while doing their chores in the garden (Dad had made them start cleaning their own bedsheets for some reason), causing him to just laugh it off as blaming the distracting eyebrows.

Australia shuffled uncomfortably, fidgeting with his uniform pockets like a bored teenager.

He was a bored teenager!

But it was all true, he had began feeling the strangest urges as of late to touch...hold and dare say kiss other, older nations...

Not just like the feeling of puberty and hormones and all that shit like when his physical body grew.

He had already experienced that disaster zone called 'growing up'; no, and it wasn't that urge to kiss a pretty Shiela (an experience he had never had the pleasure of doing thanks to Arthur...and the extreme lack of girls in his gentlemanly life...none in fact), it was more like a desperate growing need to appeal sexually available/ desirable to other, older Nations.

Sometimes it was unbearable... He could count on both hands and a foot how many times he had almost wrestled Scotland to the ground and kissed the older, handsome bastard when he visited the house for business or lessons.

But he dared not mention his worries to Arthur, in fear of being punished for such unsavoury desires and thoughts. He briefly started to wonder if what he felt was even normal... was it normal? Or was he just super messed up...?

Was he sick?

New Zealand said he felt totally normal...

Then why older nations? Why did he experience uncontrollable feeling of lust late at night when he though of that Pommy bastard sleeping in the master bedroom down the hall...

Why did he find himself touching himself in the darkness in the latest hours of the night to the thoughts of being ravished by someone like Canada...

It's Canada! Why!?

At first he was so scared and confused when it first occurred, he didn't understand at all which was most terrifying, but now he had learnt to live with it and suffer in silence. But it was getting harder to do with each passing day and every new responsibility England placed on his ever evolving country.

And now that he has met these older, powerful countries, things could only get worst...

He knew he had to act soon or he felt like he would explode!

"...and that's my conclusion, thank you." England finished with a proper bow. "I suggest we take a break to allow such ideas and strategies to be contemplated further before we agree upon a satisfactory conclusion."

The room agreed in unison.

Then like that, the meeting was over quickly and everyone stood, sorting documents. A casual feeling of comradeship swept over the conference room, washing away the serious nature of the meetings original purpose.

Australia quickly found New Zealand and himself being pulled into new conversations with open arms and friendly smiles. France clasped his shoulder affectionately while Russia smiled sweetly and ruffled his brown hair a little too roughly. They all wanted to know about the two, about where they are from, what they like to do, what they thought about 'Daddy' England!

They didn't answer that last question, they were far too old for a spanking...though the idea wasn't completely unappealing...

Australia relished in every small touch on his over sensitive skin, his nerves set alight like small scorching hot, terribly pleasurable flames that licked and burnt their way under his flesh each time he was smiled upon, each time the older nations hugged or laughed his way.

At this point, he couldn't care less who it was, he just needed someone to take him, touch him...make him breathless.

What was happening!?

It was all too much!, the touches and close quarters of this Nations were going to surely kill him. His head was starting to feel dizzy and light, his legs wobbled slightly as the bones inside decided to reduced themselves to jelly. Australia felt himself stumble backwards slightly when France touched his cheek affectionately before he was captured by a large, supportive gloved hand on the nape of his neck that steadied him firmly in place and did not make any such effort to release its grip.

"Hey dude!" Came the energetic and familiar greeting from the solid body close behind him. "Long time no see! You got big!" The happy voice laughed loudly as Australia lifted his head and strained his neck to look up and back at Alfred with a flushed expression. The way his gloved hand kinda curled and squeezed supportively on the nape of his exposed neck(slightly under his uniform collar which made touch feel beautifully scandalous), catching some ends of his soft chocolate brown hair which tugged slightly.

God it felt amazing.

If he wasn't about to faint before, it was inevitable now- he was just glad someone was already supporting him or he would surely fall to the floor in a breathless heap.

The United States of America was a towering Country indeed, he stood at least 2 heads taller then the young colony- though for how long was uncertain, Australia was still growing after all...

"Goo..Gooda..G'day m-man...mate" Australia finally breathed in heated reply and their eyes met; the two men sharing an intense look that took them both by surprise.

It was innocent enough...or at least it should have been. But what was meant to be a stare of estranged welcome and reconciliation was quickly warped into a pleading, mutually attracted gaze of secret, bubbling desire and want.

An invitation perhaps?

Australia did not know what he was inviting the older man to do (he had an idea of what he _wanted_ of course), and America was surprised to find himself reciprocating the stare with so much easy it was kind of unnerving to the big Hero. Of course their oddly interment position of Australia's smaller back to broad, firm chest didn't quite help.

A wave of electricity ran down the Colony's spine and he shivered in delighted pleasure, making Alfred's lips part slightly in a silent gasp.

The whole ordeal seemed to go completely unnoticed by the other countries surrounding them as they all seemed to have turned their attention to New Zealand.

They didn't care if the _had_ noticed...it's just a stare, an indescribable, passing look of familiarity that promised distant intense passion, wet hot moans into the pillow and curling toes as unbearable pleasure short circuits his nerves ...

Yep totally innocent.

Their shared gaze lasted all too long but was ever so fleeting at the same time and soon enough they separated as England stepped in to collect his 'children' and leave the conference with polite farewells and a charming excuse.

As the Brit dragged them to the door in an attempt to get out while things were sane, New Zealand waved and called goodbye politely to the group. Australia was oddly silent- his eyes seemed locked with America with curious fascination on what had just transpired between them. It was unexplainable and as the great wooden doors closed and those miraculous blue orbs where lost from his longing sight, something was suddenly made clear.

He may not know what's happening to his body or why his emotions where so weird; he may never know and England may never tell him. But he did know that something was defiantly going on, and something had just happened back there that made him feel both scared and more alive and at peace then he had felt in many decades.

So it was decided. Australia was going to find Alfred alone some time over the next 3 days while the Allies conference was running and get some answers. Maybe even find a solution.

Lucky for him, he didn't have to wait long at all!

...

Second Chapter down! What is gonna happen!?

What are your thoughts on what will happen next!?

Sheila- Aussie Slang for A Woman.

Warning: Next Chapter Contains Graphic Sexual Content.


	3. Independence

Alfred F Jones was a brave hero. A strong, brave hero...

He wasn't afraid of anything, really he wasn't! It wasn't the way Australia's eyes gazed over him as the skippy scanned the meeting room that made his heart beat so much faster in his chest. It really wasn't, honestly.

And if it was, so what!? It meant nothing he was sure, less then nothing.

Everything that had happened between them was in the past...

A hero didn't live in the past...

...

"So, how have things been little dude?" America questioned, swigging deeply from his beer bottle as he leaned back in his office chair, glassy eyes trained on the teen sitting across from him on his work desk. Australia grinned back at the tall handsome Nation, the two sat in the Yank's private office- just enjoying each others long lost company and catching up. The sun was setting in the sky, it's fleeting rays casting the large office into beautiful warm hues of orange and yellows; night was quickly approaching to end the first day of the Ally conference. Australia was running on very little, stolen time having slipped out from under his strict father's nose to find the American, he was no doubt being searched for at this very moment- and in a heap of trouble if caught!

"I'm not so little anymore mate..." He replied, taking a sip of his own beer the Yank had offered to him on the strict promise that England would never find out. Technically underage by human standards or not, Australia knew good beer (he had his ways) and this piss weak American stuff was doing nothing to inhibit his abilities, but still, it was really more about the company then the drink.

And he was really really liking his current company.

America chuckled, eyes meeting the young handsome Colony's from over the lip of his beer bottle. "I can see that.."

There was that amazing look again. A mutual gaze of hot want and desire passed heavily between them just like earlier that day and the brunette had to fight off the electric like shiver that threatened to undo him right then and there on the others big desk.

Alfred took it all in hungrily, letting his imagination run wild with filthy desires before he cleared his throat awkwardly, his eyes flickering away hesitantly.

What are you doing Alfred!? He's just a kid- a Colony for gods sake!

_England's kid. England's Colony._

But God was he so damn alluring to the older American...those lips were so damn sexy...just sitting there ready and waiting to be touched. So kissable, wet and tasting of his favourite beer.

So fuckable...

No!

Stop it Alfred, you know this feeling. You've had this feeling before. Australia is on the verge of independence...just like he had been so long ago.

It's just hormones! Hormones and youth...

Did the reckless Aussie even know what kind of effect he was having on him!? To all Nations he would come across in the next few years until achieving full independence!?

It was like an animal in heat, drawing all who would form alliances with the blossoming young Colony in like helpless moths to an irresistibly bright flame...

"So...uh, you're sure everything been fine...like, at home...with Arthur?" The blond persisted cautiously, sipping his beer in an attempt to pull their conversation into much more innocent waters. It was a question he had wanted to the younger man anyway, England had not really been the warm, lovely man he used to be when Alfred was young. He had changed greatly since their great fight, twisted to become bitter and cold towards everyone- he still was, and it was a little concerning that a man like that was raising multiple Young Colonies- young children.

A lot more time was still required to heal that scar of betrayal it would seem...

Australia shrugged, sipping on his own drink before sliding off the desk's large wooden edge to stand up straight and stretch out his limbs. "Yeah, it's all good I guess. Like, yeah the bloke can be a real piece of bloody work. But he's gotten better since the arrival of Zea and the others, barely hits us when he drinks." The brunette laughed weakly at his own statement before dipping his head back to drain the rest of that awful beer in one foul swoop, no use wasting free booze!

Nah, England was an ok guy, he barely touched them...or spoke to them...or saw them really, except for study lessons and dinner- the great Empire would have nothing to do with them most days...

They all suspected it was because of the upcoming war, or perhaps he has just grown tired of nurturing them- it was hard to say, but one thing was for sure. That once lukewarm love and affection had now run cold as ice towards them.

"That's good then..."

Was it?

America couldn't tell if the boy was joking or not. Did he want to know? Surly England wouldn't beat his own Colonies! Yes, the man could be a strict pain in the arse...but beating!? No, never...right...?

These thoughts lead America to wonder if Britain was beating Australia...then surly he was bedding him too. It would make sense considering Australia's current blossoming state, after all England had been the one to bed America first when he was ready...sealing their alliance.

Then they had fought.

And that alliance had been broken...

A flare of hot jealously shot through America's blood slightly followed by an overwhelming amount of lust and desire.

The bloody Pom was having Aus panting and moaning under him on a messy bed all to himself...

England was a greedy, power hungry Empire after all...

Fucking him and relishing in those wonderful, soft looking lips...

The thought was fleeting and before Alfred knew it, he too was standing, finishing off his own drink. God, he was losing himself to this kid's intoxicating aura. Damn independence! His throat felt tight and it was hard to swallow, he felt like a starving man in front of a feast- he was slipping...

No. Not now...you will regret it.

"Well...you should get going...Arthur's probably looking for you dude!" His face was a picture of energetic kindness as he placed his drink aside to grab the young Colony by the nape of the neck and lead him towards the office door. You need to leave.

Leave before I make a very bad, drunken decision...

Australia's breath caught suddenly in his throat at that wonderful touch and tingle on his bare flesh, but said nothing. Alfred choose to do the same, ignoring the urge to lick his own lips with want...

In the hall they said their reluctant goodbyes, their hot, wanting stares lingering on each other for just a few torturous seconds too long. Both wanting the same thing...right?

To feel one another's flesh hot and wet against their own as they moved heavy breathed, sweaty bodied against each other with firey passion? At least that's what Australia wanted...

What he needed. It was almost unbearable now... An awful sickness that threatened to madden him if he did not receive help. It was like an itch under his skin that he could not scratch alone, driving him slowly insane.

As America released his firm, horribly amazing grip on the shorter young man, Australia gasped lightly at the trails of electricity the blond left behind on his burning, sensitive skin... Their lips were unbearably close then suddenly so far away as they stood back and Aus turned to leave- heading back to his temporary living quarters in the large building next door to this one. He didn't look back at the Yankee, no matter how much he wanted to. And he wanted to, so badly.

What was going on!? God, he was going crazy! It was truly unbearable!

He had to be sick! Nothing else could explain what was happening to his body and mind at the sight of the other Nations. Older Nations...

They were all so wonderfully strong and would make such amazing bonds...

Allies...

He felt so breathless and confused all the way back to his room...

Sleep could fix this... It had too!

And if if didn't, then he was most certainly fucked.

And not in the way he wanted.

...

The old, very large Country accommodation building was as silent as the grave when Australia finally arrived. The sun had only just set in the vast sky and it wasn't at all that late, 7:00 perhaps? That would explain the silence, no doubt most of the Allies were out, drinking or having dinner together at some bloody pub. He didn't really care, he wasn't in the mood to socialise: not that they would let him tag along- he was just an English Colony after all (and underage- but not by much), besides. He just couldn't focus on anything right now...

That horrible burning want inside, that itch, it was making him feel weak, ebbing away his strength like hot passionate fire on a frayed yarn of helpless string.

Sleep. That's right, sleep was all he needed- it fixes everything! At least that's what uncle Scotland swears by.

This is not a common hangover however, this was...this is...well, he had no idea what this was.

It was torture.

The brunette pulled up outside his room, fishing around his shallow pants pockets for his key before he put them clumsily in the ornate door and opened it to shuffle inside. He was currently sharing the fancy, one bedroom living quarters with his brother, New Zealand- sharing one bed and only one bathroom with the shorter brunette was not a prospect he overly looked forward to; Zea was a squirming sheet stealer who took far too long in the bathroom... But it was only for a few days, after that they would be back home at England's house once again. They would survive...

Upon entering the old hotel like room, Australia noticed it was dark- the lights were not on; signalling that his younger brother was not here. Aus frowned, shutting the well decorated door behind him lightly and began walking further into the darkened room, ignoring the light switch as he passed (while he had embraced the idea of electricity to create light- it was still so strange to him). He didn't need it to see, he had eyes like a Dingo in the inky blackness of nightfall.

But still the room, at first glance, appeared empty- void of any Kiwi life.

How odd, it wasn't like his brother to disobey England and go out. That was his job.

"Zea? You here mate?" Aus called out curiously, all be it absently as he shuffled down the short, dark entry hall, unbuttoning the shirt of his stuffy, itchy military uniform as he went. He took it off with a silent sigh of gratitude- the bloody thing was the absolute worst! He hated it...but then again, Australia hated most clothes; body paint and a loin cloth was all anyone really needed! Clothes made you hot and itchy, they hid you under layers of false skin.

"Zea...?" He whistled, sharp and high into the darkness as if calling for a pet sheepdog, knowing it would get his brother's attention if he were indeed here. That little sheep shagger hated it, which is why the young Skippy loved it. It was a sibling thing.

"He's not here." Came the flat, toneless reply as the young Colony rounded the corner; grunting slightly in surprise. England sat in the single large very old looking ornate chair, his legs were crossed neatly despite the fact he was slouching comfortably with a book in his hand. A bedside table gas lamp sat in service to the British Nation, cutting through the darkness around them to illuminate the focusing older man in hues of soft warm yellow as he continued to read. Australia cleared his throat to get rid of his own surprise as he threw his military shirt not so neatly onto the big double bed he had to share with New Zealand. God their room was tiny!

Why was England here!? He was so busted!

Play it cool Aus, maybe everything was ok...

"G'day dad! What are you doing here- where's Zea?" The brunette questioned curiously as he bent drown to unlace his shiny combat boots, fiddling with the strings slightly to undo the neat bow before he pulled them both off (with the socks!) and threw them messily out of sight with a 'bang'. Shoes were stupid too! He wriggled his toes happily on the rooms thick carpet, struggling to look up at his father Nation.

Guilt was starting to riddle its way inside of him.

"It's 'Good day' and New Zealand is with Canada, they are both out searching for you, apparently." Arthur's voice was low and toneless as he replied, flicking the books old page forcefully, eyes still downcast- reading.

"Oh...well, here I am..." The skippy stretched awkwardly in self half naked presentation before moving to turn on the remaining bed lamp opposite them, bathing the small hotel room in warm yellow rays; giving everything in the room a soft look and feel. "Do you need something from me, dad?"

Silence. Aus shuffled, licking his lips guiltily. Why did he feel so guilty?

England didn't answer, but instead asked a question of his own.

"Where have you been?" His voice was still toneless, firm and he did not look up from his book while he asked, though Aus could tell his father was angry with him; there was a sharpness to his undertone. Years of experience had taught him that- he would need to trend carefully to avoid that Empire sized temper.

"I...err...I've been...you know...out?" Surely it wasn't such a big deal! It was just America and yes, the Yank and the Brit had a sore history, but surely their friendship wouldn't make England _that_ mad! They were only hanging out.

Unfortunately...

"Where?" Those judgmental green eyes had flickered up to stare at him now from over the books edge, they were narrowed with expectancy and annoyance, they were...glassy?

Oh no, that could only mean one thing. Dear old father had been stress drinking once again, this wasn't really news for England drank quite often these days, it was really more of an ominous warning then anything. A warning that told Australia to hide like a scared animal and wait for the worst to pass...or at least until the Englishman had drunk himself into unconsciousness so he might wash him off and put him to bed. A practice he had become quite good at since a young child.

It was then he noticed that familiar, bitter smell...

This was no doubt bad, Australia knew all to well how awful and twisted things could get when the Pom got his hands on the whiskey, he had the jagged shoulder scar to prove it...

"I..." Aus began slowly, taking a step back cautiously as he watched England rise from his seat to stand. Stature intimidating.

"I shall not ask you again Australia, where have you been?" His voice was stern, his back straight and demanding, book open and hanging now unless in his hand. The brunette swallowed deeply before he replied quickly, almost stumping over his words in a bid to appease his enraged father. Like a guilty child.

"J-Just hanging out with a mate, catching up with Alfred and stuff- it's no big deal really..."

The sharp, heavy 'bang' of a slammed shut book had the young Colony jump in surprise. Oops, well shit!

There was no way to avoid England's rage, it would seem.

"America!?" The blond roared with untold rage, slamming the discarded book down to the wooden table heavily before he strode forward towards the rattled young man with heated determination. Catching the Colony's tanned wrist up tightly into a steel like, inescapable grasp, the Empire drew up to sneer down at his wide eyed 'son', the sharp smell of whiskey floating between them, as did the Brits nails. Australia said nothing, his breathing shallow but steady as he held his father's burning, angry gaze evenly.

"Did he touch you!?" He asked, his voice a low and demanding hiss as he squeezed Aus's wrist tightly- causing the Colony to clench his teeth in pain. What was happening!?

Touch him? What?

"Did America touch you!?" The Brit demanded once again, louder this time, shaking the confused brunette roughly, causing a whimper of pain. He did not seem to notice, or care.

No America hadn't touched him, despite how much the Skippy had wanted, no needed him to. For any older Nation to...

It was insufferable, maddening.

"Answer me, Australia!"

"N-no...why would he-

"Good." England cut him off, low and through gritted teeth. Not America, anyone but that ungrateful, unloving betrayer to touch his most hopeful of Colonies!

Australia's head was swimming and his wrist was hurting terribly; he was so confused; though not as confused as when next the Britain was pulling their heads together in a fierce, angry kiss. Aus squeaked, giving a gasp in surprise and the Brit took full advantage of it, working his tongue expertly into the teens smaller mouth to deepen the rough, wet sensation between them.

Despite all his over bearing emotions of want and desire, Australia's first instinct was to pull away from this unfamiliar touch but the firm, steady hand that intwined it's way into the brunettes hair prevented his escape. A long moment passed with just their mouths working together (one angry and demanding, the other hesitant and confused) and with each drawn out second that passed between them the Aussie felt his head get increasingly lighter and his legs lose their strength.

"Ahhhmmmhh!"

What was that noise? Was that him? Was he moaning?

Just as he was sure his knees would give out from underneath him and he was about to collapse completely, the older Nation released his lips roughly, England's hand coming to pull at those brown locks harshly to hold his son up so he might look down upon what he desired. He desired power, he desired the world and most off all, he desired his son's unwavering, unbreakable Alliance to the Royal Crown.

The young Colony's face was flushed and laced with confusion, his lips were wet and swollen and his breathing was uneven; hair a mess as he waited helplessly, wordlessly for England to make his next drunken move.

The perfect picture of sex.

"Wh-what a-a-are you...?" His newly found voice was weak and confused as he stared, wide eyed at the blond Nation holding him in place. Both males were similar in height though England stood perhaps a few inches taller (for now) and while Australia was much more visibly muscled, the British Empire's strength was immense and unstoppable compared to his lowly Colony whom he held in place with ease.

"This is what you want, is it not!?" England demanded, his voice was still so angry, grip so strong and unwavering upon that sensitive flesh and soft brown hair.

"I...I..." Australia just couldn't find the right words to reply, his brain was nothing but fog and utter confusion. He did want this, didn't he? Or at least, something like it. That constant pressure of want for passion and desire that tugged at his ever fibre in his being had been quelled if only for a few moments while his lips were being captured in another's. His horrid, untouchable itch that maddened him daily had been scratched, if only for a moment. That could only mean that this is _was_ what he wanted...right? What he needed?

He was so confused, so doubtful. It was not America, this was England. England didn't sent hot desire fuelled electricity down his spine but icy chills of fear and sadness. This wasn't right...but why did he want it?

"I know this is what you desire, child." England continued, eyes glassy and narrowed as if reading the younger man's thoughts. "I am not so daft as to not notice your changes!" He released his grip on those soft locks of brown hair in favour for shaking Aus harshly yet again by his now arching wrist. "You want strong Allies child, need them. You want your independence now, don't you!? That's why you're sniffing around that damn bloody American fool." His tone was accusing and laced with the deadliest of venom and...hurt?

Fear?

What? His independence? Was that really the root of all his horrid, mixed up emotions and desires as of late? And why did dad sound so terribly angry at him. He hadn't even been thinking about independence, in fact with the up coming World War, it was the last thing he could ever want. He did not want to be left alone to fend for himself in this wide, cold world. Not again, he had made a promise to himself long ago he would never go back.

Never.

England was his world. Forever.

The young Colony said nothing, his gaze falling to stare at the carpet with eyes laden with guilt. He did not deny his father's accusations for he had no way to tell if they were indeed true- for all he knew, they could be...

A deep growl like sound rumbled deep writhing England's throat, was it annoyance? Rage? Lust?

"Jett." Arthur stated, his voice dark and unreadable. Australia's head snapped up at the sound of his human name falling from such different, regal lips. England never used this name, ever.

Still, the Australian said nothing, his eyes staying down cast as his arching wrist was finally released with a shove from its deathlike hold. He rubbed it eagerly, ignoring the small scratched, bleeding bits of flesh.

"Lay upon the bed." The stern instructions had Jett's eyes flickering up to stare at the older Empire with question, but he dared not make a noise of protest for the fierce, cold look adorning the Brit's face was one not to be argued with, unless you required a solid, merciless beating...

So, without a sound the young handsome teen walked over to the large, ornate bed and sat down upon its soft mattress before allowing himself to fall backwards upon it's silky quilt covers, his legs dangling over the side lazily as he stared ahead at the golden bed canopy hanging above...

He swallowed, licking his swollen lips. They tasted like whiskey.

He did not shift his vision away as he heard the muffled sound of clothes rustling off to his far right, then the soft controlled 'thump' of shoes being discarded with care. His breathing hitched in his throat and his heart began beating so much faster when he heard the familiar, light 'jingle' of a belt buckle being removed and dropped to the floor below.

He had been counting the garments as they had been removed, England was naked now.

Aus wanted this, it was true. He had wanted this for so very long- the times spend imagining- dreaming it with anyone and everyone, including England, where countless.

And now it was no dream, but his reality. His independence.

A twisted reality, but one that he wanted- even with Arthur...

England was his world, after all.

The tall, ominous shadow that cast its way along his laying figure shook Australia from his own thoughts as he soon found those large pale hands that belonged to the older man above now working roughly and harshly upon the buttons and zip of his thick military pants.

"I had wanted to wait, avoid this if at all possible." Arthur stated annoyedly as buttons where forcefully popped free and the delicate pants zipper yanked downward. Aus said nothing, his eyes flickering shut as it was getting harder and harder to focus.

"I had wanted to be your last, a seal of lasting Alliance between us."

The brunette bit back a small hiss of pain as sharp, forceful fingers hooked themselves around his waistband (of trousers and under clothe!) and yanked hard. Sharp nails raked down the soft, tanned flesh of his youthful legs as the last of any dignity was stripped forcefully away and thrown out of sight in a heap.

Exposed.

Australia now lay completely naked and on display to the other hungry Nation looming above. He made no attempt to cover himself or shy away in his bareness, he was proud of who he was: clothes (or lack of) did not bother him: besides he _did_ want this more then he could ever truly explain. Still, he did not open his eyes to look up at the other, older man, who had fallen silent and still- no doubt the Empire stood staring. Glassy drunken eyes filled with rage, lust and pity as he judged his own Colony for being so shamelessly hard already.

He did not care, not right now.

"Spread your legs, now." Following the strict order, those pale hands gripped hard at the Aussie's knees and yanked them apart, allowing any part of the teen's soft flesh that may be hidden to be dragged under the Englishmen's sharp, angry gaze.

Nothing continued to happen for a few unbearably long seconds, it was maddening. That horrible itch had returned under his flesh, making his body fuzzy with want- his mind foggy with that insane desire.

Touch me, please.

Kiss me.

Fuck me.

Do something! I feel like I'm dying!

It was like a fire under his flesh- a fire fuelled by guilt and fear, longing and untold lust...

The teens wet lips parted with excitement and anticipation, his heart pounding. Yet he dared not make a movement nor sound. Father hated to be interrupted.

Arthur took in his naked and fully exposed 'son' before him. Australia had grown up so quickly under his rule, matured into a strapping young man with devilishly handsome facial features and a wonderfully sculpted, naturally sun kissed body (despite growing up under England's gloomy weather!). He was appealing to say the least, more so naked and quivering before him. He licked his lips, eyes narrowing angrily.

He was going to fuck him.

But England didn't want it to be this way, if felt wrong- like he was repeating the past only to have himself hurt once again...

America.

He had been the one to take Alfred's innocence all those years ago- in a situation eerily similar to this one.

No.

With America there had been love, warm touches and kisses of endearment as they made the sweetest of love together by candlelight- this was not that. This was rage, hate and jealously about to be aggressively fucked into a waiting mattress. Australia was ready to blossom into an independent Country and England just could not stand it. Because he would leave. Because he was just like America, young and stupid and by God; England refused to let this one destroy him like the last. To leave him, abandon him.

He owned Australia, and Australia had to know it before he left him forever...

Without thinking, Arthur leaned in and took those waiting, parted lips onto his own hungry ones and wasted no time claiming that innocent mouth for himself once again in a heated, wet kiss of dominance.

"Mmhmm!" They groaned deep in unison to the hot, wonderful touch before it was deepened through biting, demanding teeth and wet, alluring tongues.

"Ahhhh.."

Jett's arms found themselves falling above his head with the weight of lead and his eyes flicker open in surprise; those large English hands had found themselves on his tanned, spread legs once again before they began traveling firmly upwards, sending wondrously icy chills throughout the aroused teen. He felt so unbelievably hot despite this, his brain had since stopped working and nothing was making sense.

Their kiss never broke as Arthur explored his 'son', his hand traveling aggressively over every chest muscle, down those soft sides and over every patch of soft, over sensitive flesh he could reach- all the while avoiding the one area Australia wanted touched most.

"Mmmhhhh!"

Groaning into their kiss with need, Jett found himself subconsciously buckling his hips upwards in an attempt to create some semblance of friction as yet again Arthur rubbed his inner thighs and around his very much erect cock with rough expertise.

But never did he touch it, why won't he touch it!? It was driving him crazy.

England pulled away from their long, fierce kiss slowly, taking in with dark satisfaction the pleading, flushed face below him and the thin thread of saliva that had them connected still. Australia clearly wanted to be touched, needed to be. But he would not be. This was still England's rule and a lowly Colony did not warrant it - did not deserve it. Britain was the one in charge, he had the power, for now, and he was going to exercise it to the fullest. How else would Aus learn his place once independent? He had clearly been too soft in the past. No more.

The great British Empire took what it wanted without mercy.

Australia mewed helpless, desperately when Arthur pulled away and straightened up to look down at him once again. His green eyes then narrowed, angry and lustful.

"Touch yourself and I will cut it off, am I clear?" England growled, voice holding the tone of one superior. Of an Empire that demanded 100% obedience.

And obedience was what he would get.

Jett nodded, eyes wide as he swallowed back a lump of fear that had risen to his throat- just keep your arms above your head mate and nothing bad will happen! As Australia made that mental note, he was surprised to find two long English fingers being forcefully pushed past his wet, loose lips and into his unsuspecting mouth. The surprised teen spluttered at the sudden intrusion, trying hard not to cough and wriggle his head around as they sunk deeper to brush against his soft warm tongue.

"Suck them." Arthur demanded from above, his free hand continuing to explore the vast, lightly toned muscle of the Skippy's stomach and thighs with rough interest.

Australia sucked. He worked his tongue clumsily around those long digits, wetting them as Arthur pumped them in and out of the moist cavern lightly; relishing darkly in the flushed, lewd expression that befell the now drooling, suckling Colony. Preoccupied with his current task, Australia failed to notice the way that other English hand traveled downwards to cup his butt roughly and play with its soft flesh; before it fell to his left leg and lifted it up to hook in place over the blond's shoulder.

Confused, Australia's eyes flicked up to stare at Arthur above as he continued to suck lightly, he was met with fierce, glassy green orbs of rage, lust and something more. Something unknown.

It scared him.

Without warning, the Brit withdrew his now saliva dripping fingers from that hot, tiny mouth and held them up as if to study them with little intrest. They would have to do.

"Prepare yourself." Was all England stated as his dry hand traveled to secure that leg in place, preventing any and all escape.

"F-for wha- Ahh!" The brunette's question died in his throat as a single, wet digit entered him roughly. He struggled not to scream and squeal as it pushed its way forcefully past the rig of tight muscle and began probing around lovelessly inside him.

"Mmmmm.." A gurgle of uncomfortable sound bubbled from the Aussie's throat.

Grabbing at the bed sheets above his head for support, Aus's body squirmed lightly as he tried to adjust to the odd and unfamiliar intrusion; it hurt very little, which was great, it just felt...weird.

God he wanted so bad to touch himself... He was starting to ache so terribly with need. Perhaps England was only joking about cutting it off...

Unfortunately, Australia was given no time to really think on it further, or to truly adjust to his situation before a second, slightly bigger finger was roughly forcing itself inside to join the first.

"Ahhhh!" Back arching with the white hot pain the followed, Jett felt his wide eyes prickle with tears, his teeth clenching together hard. God it hurt so badly, he felt like he was being stretched open ready to snap and break and before he knew it he was twisting his hips in every direction in a bid to escape the awful feeling.

But he could not. England's grip was tight and unwavering on his leg- leaving him trapped and helpless as the British Nation started moving, wriggling those probing digits in a bid to stretch him further. Wider. Thrusting into him harshly, eyes void of any love or sympathy.

"Ahhh! Shit!" His painful cry echoed through their tiny, dimply lit room loudly as his back and hips squirmed painfully, his knuckles white as he gripped the bed covers above for dear life.

"Shhhhhh!" Arthur was silencing him now, leaning in to kiss the young distraught Colony harshly, deeply- successfully muffling those annoying yells and squeals of pain as he continued thrusting his fingers in and out with loveless, brutal force.

An Empire took what it wanted.

God it was bloody torture. Bloody stupid, horrible torture. This was not what Australia wanted at all, he had desired pleasure and hot, nerve destroying passion. Not this, why would England do this!?

His heavy, pounding erection had wilted some with the pain and as the young Colony started to think that this was all there was for him, it happened.

Those long, nimble English fingers pushed themselves deeper and brushed against something that had Australia seeing white and calling out with pleasure into their kiss.

It was so sudden and so unbelievably incredible all at once- the rush of pleasure that washed over his twisting, hurting body was like an atomic explosion that had him arching into those fingers and their amazing feeling with a loud, flushed faced groan.

"Ahhhh!" Aus's yell was muffled by unfriendly lips but he knew whatever had just happened had caused him to make quite the mess over his bare stomach.

He was so wrapped up in this horribly amazing, feeling that shot through his young body like hot fire through every vein that he barely managed to notice those fingers pulling out of him roughly to be replaced with something blunt and thick at his tight, wet and only just prepared entrance. England's hash kiss turned to a smirk again his son's swollen pink lips as he snapped his hips forward and with one forceful thrust managed to sheath himself halfway inside while Aus remain distracted with pleasure. The feeling of being filled up so quickly had Australia's mouth hanging open wide and going slack against England's' in a silent scream of pleasure and pain. The low, throaty moan that escaped England's lips was amazing and terrifying in the brunette's ear all at once as the Englishman continued to push himself in deeper until he was buried to the hilt, breathing hard with the strong sent of liquor.

The cruel older blond wasted no time in allowing his traitorous son to adjust to this full feeling before he was pulling his way out and slamming himself back in with the force of a truly enraged Empire, making sure to hit that newly discovered location that had the sweaty, twisting teen underneath him calling out with a scream of ecstasy. He started up a steady harsh rhythm with his thrusts, they where slow but forceful; causing the old bed below them to sway with each strong movement.

"Ahhh...ahhh...AHH!" Jet was gasping out in laboured breath with each time England refilled him, his green eyes staring ahead at the swaying golden canopy above with unfocused vision and his hands cling to the bedsheets above his sweaty head so tightly they could tear at any moment.

"Ahhh! Don't-...Ahh ple-please AHHH! I ca- Ahh!" He was incapable of forming any semblance of coherent speech with each title wave of immense pleasure that crashed over him, it was amazing: maddening all at once and he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer.

"Ahh...mmmmahhh!"

It was when one of those big pale hands finally took ahold of Australia's painfully hard, neglected erection and begin pumping him lovelessly in rhythm with those hard thrusts did the young Skippy finally slip over the edge for the second time that night. He buckled his hips and arched his back off the bed as he came hard once again, this time on his chest and in the older Country's hand.

Jett's throat felt raw from his own deafening squeals of pleasure and he felt his firmly held legs begin to spasm and turn to jelly in England steel like grip as he continued to thrust into him with increasing vigour and speed.

He was in a state of total catatonic euphoria by the time England finally reached his own limits and came hard and deep inside him. Australia was a mess when the older Country finally pulled out if him with a lewd, sick slimy, wet sound. His own semen covered his chest, stomach, thighs and genitals: and though he couldn't feel it he was sure England's seed was leaking out of him and dripping onto the bed. He felt disgusting and sticky- but satisfied. Oh god how he felt satisfied, that maddening itch under his flesh had been scratched more then once, 5 times in fact and it felt amazing.

Australia heard his father move away to collect his clothes from out of his range of vision, all he could focus on was his shaky breath and the rise and fall of his dirty chest.

In out. In. Out.

His legs were still useless and contracting with small spasms as the distinct jingle of a belt buckle being straightened back on rang in his pulsing ears. England was silent as he redressed and that silence was killing him.

"...I'm sorry." Aus found himself apologising in a soft, broken voice as he stared on ahead. His throat and body felt so sore, but not as sore as the guilt that seemed to claim his heart and chest. "I'm sorry Arthur..." He repeated, not knowing what else to say.

Silence. Aus waited.

A long shadow cast its way along his laying form as the British Empire stared down at him, now completely dressed. Jett's didn't look at him- couldn't look at him, he just stayed silent and waited. They both knew what this meant, Aus felt different the moment it had transpired, they both felt it and it was beyond terrifying. They couldn't go back now, it was unchangeable- irreversible. This was their new reality, even more broken and twisted then before.

England felt empty, Australia alone.

"Congratulations Australia." The Brit's voice and tone was anything but congratulatory as he spoke. "You're independent now."

And with that he stalked out of any view, leaving the small Hotel room with a silent click of the door behind him.

Australia felt a heavy sickness fall down upon him and he found himself reaching to grip at his twisted, sore stomach. His fingers fell upon the sticky, half dried substance left behind only long moments ago and he rubbed it between shaking fingers. He had got what he wanted, what he had needed...right?

He was independent now.

The golden bed canopy danced and swayed above him in the warm gas glow of light- he swallowed back a lump in his raw, screamed out throat.

Independent. Free.

The golden fabrics above became increasingly blurry as tears began pooling in his dull green eyes before the spilled their way down the sides of his sweaty, dirty face as he began to cry.

England wasn't his world anymore.

He was alone.

...

Sorry for the wait friends! Wow, ok this was intense! I haven't written smut in such a long time so forgive me if it's terrible! What will happen next!?


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